


Falling Is Never Easy

by Gabe (gabrielhugh)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Bond is Bond, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Prostitution, Q is older than he looks, Q is simultaneously smart af and dumb af, Rape, Slow Burn, Suit Kink, bond is emotionally unavailable, but it very clearly happened, craig!bond, for a bit, not between bond and Q, text fic, there's no actual description of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-06-16 06:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15431451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielhugh/pseuds/Gabe
Summary: They were very different people. Their lives went in completely separate directions. There was no way they could each understand the other's lifestyle, but this would never stop them from trying. And at first, they never really expected it to matter, anyway.





	1. First Times

Most weeknights work was slow. Quinn showed up anyway since some of his favourite clients could only make it during the week. Tuesdays, however, were his quietest night. He sat at the bar, leaning back against it and looking out at everybody else. Not many of the boys came in to work on these nights and the visitors were almost always regulars who knew what they wanted. Looking around, he could see Jude entertaining three men with the aid of a strip pole and Finn leading one man by his tie into one of the back rooms. He recognised every face in the room from his months of previous experience, a fact which made him feel comfortable in his setting. The comfort shifted when a new face approached him.

There was tension between him and the stranger, who stood closer to Quinn than necessary at the completely empty bar. He was trying to get his attention and Quinn decided to oblige. He playfully turned and rested his elbow on the bar, using his hand to prop his head up as he looked at the new man. Features of his face were defined, his eyes a bright blue, piercing even in the darkness. There was a maturity on his face which Quinn believed to be suggestive of an age much older than he actually was. He was probably mid to late forties, but his expression meant he could have easily been mistaken for being in his fifties.

The stranger ordered his own drink before glancing down at the boy next to him. He smirked as he noticed the almost pleading look on his face. “Can I buy you a drink?” The man asked, believing it best to at least be polite before anything else. Quinn smiled at the offer and nodded to the bartender, who knowingly nodded back and began making a drink other than what had been ordered by the new man. The bartender placed a cocktail glass on the bar and a whiskey glass quickly followed next to it. The boy’s age was undetermined, but he seemed awfully young stood next to the other man – the only suggestion of his age was that there was no question about giving him alcohol. Quinn took a sip of his own drink, knowing without looking that the older man was watching him as he did so. “You even old enough to drink that?” He finally quipped, grinning arrogantly and looking down at the boy. Even stood up straight, Quinn was significantly shorter than the older man.

Quinn laughed. He tipped his glass far enough that he could drink that entirety of it in one mouthful, fighting through that pain that came as the liquid burned his throat. He regained his posture but did not wait for the burning to stop before he replied. “I’m old enough for a lot of things, sir, but I think you know that.” Quinn had very clear intentions set out for this man and he could not see that the other could possibly have anything else in mind. His comment made the older man nod to himself, and Quinn had to admit he was slightly disappointed that he had failed to earn so much as a smirk with this comment. There was a moment in which he regretted drinking his drink so quickly as he watched the other man taking his time with his own drink. It was rare that he felt nervous around clients any more, but this one seemed to demand it in his manner.

“You’re still just a boy, kid,” the man’s voice was deep and smooth, perfectly unambigious in the almost empty room. Quinn was briefly taken aback before he regained his posture. He knew this type of man and knew this comment was not him showing a lack of interest.

“You’d be surprised what I know, old man,” Quinn retorted, making the decision to play his game. The man chuckled, raising his eyebrow briefly as he lifted his glass to his mouth. Quinn wondered if this man would be the oldest person he had ever been with. The current record was set at forty-five years old, and he was relatively sure this would raise that number closer to fifty. Excitement rushed through him as he thought about it – it had been a while since he had done anything new.

“Maybe you can show me.” The man did not finish his drink. He left the half-full glass on the bar and held his arm out for Quinn. This was a surprising move, given that Quinn was the person who knew where he was going and this man could not have visited before, but Quinn linked arms with him nevertheless.

The private rooms were rather basic. They were built to serve a function and that function was obvious since the entire room consisted of a double bed, some candles and a drawer containing everything they could possibly need. Quinn waited for the stranger to take the lead, unsure what kind of service he was hoping to receive. In the new light, he noticed the way the man’s white shirt was skin tight and his tie was pushed as far up as it could go. The blazer he wore fit him perfectly and showed that he was well built. The trousers he wore were professional and yet, Quinn thought, perfectly tight in all the right places. He could not deny the twinge of disappointment he felt when the man began to loosen his tie.

-

It was Quinn’s job to get fucked, and he usually loved that. There were some cases in which he which he regretted being the one the customer had chosen, as some men simply did not know what they were doing. In this instance, however, he had never been more in love with his job. He lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and taking a moment to catch his breath. This had been one of the rare instances in which his client had wanted Quinn to come, too. Next to him lay a completely naked stranger, who did not seem to be anywhere nearly as exhausted as Quinn was, and he started to wonder if he could pride himself on being so good at his job after all.

A few moments of silence passed before it was broken. “You’d also be surprised what I know,” the man spoke, yet again, with an arrogant tone and it took Quinn a moment to realise what he was referring to. Once he realised, turned his head to look at him and grinned.

“Not surprised but impressed such an old man has so much stamina,” Quinn spoke, trying to match the arrogance of the other man’s voice in his response. The nerves he had felt earlier on in the night had disappeared, the air between them now feeling completely comfortable and natural. Quinn had high hopes that this man would be returning back to visit him in the near future.

As they got dressed again they barely spoke. It was not until he was about to walk out of the door that Quinn shouted for the man to stop. “Quinn. That’s my name. If you can’t see me next time you come in, just ask at the bar and they’ll find me.” There was a risk that the other man had not enjoyed their time together to the same degree as Quinn, but he was good at his job and he could tell when somebody was completely satisfied. In this instance, he was certain the older man was feeling a similar way to him.

Quinn saw the man check his phone before responding, his face subtly changing from neutral to stern as he did so. There was a brief pause before his response, as he grabbed the door handle and began to leave.

“I’ll see you soon, Quinn.”

The door was shut behind him before Quinn could ask for his name. 


	2. Strange Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the ratings for this fic come into play. Rape/non-con is heavily implied in this chapter, including the use of date rape drugs. If you are not comfortable with this, please do not read.

_ Two Weeks Later _

For the most part, Quinn’s mind quickly returned to its usual state of being more concerned with earning his wage than with anything else. The uniquely intimate experience he had shared with the stranger was put into a corner of his mind where it would not bother him any further. He stood at his usual place against the bar, leaning back against it with his whiskey glass in his hands. Tonight, the bar was far busier than it ever was during the week. People struggled to make their way to the private rooms, dragging each other along by the wrists. There was such a large crowd gathering around the strip poles that Quinn could no longer tell who was dancing, but he tried to figure it out anyway. He realised that nobody seemed overly interested in him at that moment, so chose to take a break and head to the bathroom, abandoning his drink at the bar. It had been a long night and he wondered if refreshing himself would make him seem more approachable.

On his return, he noticed that there was still a place at the bar where his almost-full glass sat, despite the ever-growing crowd around the rest of the bar. Assuming he was not gone long enough for anybody to fill his space, Quinn resumed his position at the bar, ordering another drink and gulping down the one he had thus far barely touched. Half-way through the next glass, he began to feel the effects of the alcohol sooner than he usually would. Looking out at the crowd, it grew more and more difficult to decipher the faces of people directly in front of him, and those far away were nothing more than a blur of colour. He sat down on the bar stool, fearing his legs were not going to hold him any longer. His eyelids were getting heavier by the second, not staying open no matter how much he fought it. The last thing he could remember was someone taking him by the arm and guiding him away from the bar.

***

There were no candles alight when Quinn woke again. The room around him showed no signs of anybody else’s presence, but his entire body ached. He tried to sit up, but the room began violently spinning and his legs seemed to have seized up entirely. The thoughts that ran through his mind were incoherent. It felt like hours before he registered the sunlight beaming onto him through the open window. He struggled to maintain consciousness long enough to know what was going on, until a woman sat at the end of the bed, lightly resting her hand on his leg.

Sitting up seemed as though it would be too painful, and opening his eyes appeared to be the most difficult task he had ever been faced with, but somehow, he knew that he was safe with her. After a few minutes, he registered that she was crying. There was a ringing in his ears which was finally dulling enough for him to hear her apologies being offered to him over and over again. Any attempt he made at consoling her did not appear to be successful as he could not speak or sit up. He lost consciousness again just as he heard the sirens.

***

The next time Quinn woke he was surrounded by white. Initially, he wondered if he had died, but then he registered the people stood next to him. They were doctors, all reading charts or looking at Quinn with worried looks. He tried to turn his head to look at him but it caused a searing pain in his neck which made him gasp. Suddenly, everybody in the room gave him their undivided attention. One of the doctors started saying his name over and over again, asking if he could hear him. Silently, Quinn partly wished he could not hear anything and he could just go back to sleep again, but outwardly he stuck his thumb up.

“OK, Quinn, can you tell me where you are?” This seemed like a bizarre question to ask someone who had just woken up, and last knew that he was in a bar, but Quinn reminded himself that the doctor was doing a job.

“H-hospital,” Quinn said. His voice was raspy, and he briefly wondered if he would be able to use it at all. His throat felt so dry it hurt to swallow.

“Good, do you know which hospital?” The more the doctor spoke, the more coherent Quinn felt he was becoming. The voice was grounding him and suddenly there was no pain prohibiting him from looking around the room. He looked over at the man who stood next to him, a caring look in his eyes making him instantly feel safer.

“No.” Quinn wondered if he was supposed to know which hospital he was in. He had never needed to visit one in his time living in this city, and he could not recall which hospital would have been closest to him.

“That’s fine. Do you have any recollection of why you are here?” The doctor’s tone reassured him that his confusion was, indeed, fine. Nevertheless, Quinn felt more scared than he ever had. Now being asked to think back, he had no memory of anything that had occurred within the last 24 hours. The last thing he could remember was walking to work the previous afternoon. He shook his head slowly.

There was a sombre nod from the doctor, and the rest of the people surrounding him left the room. Quinn had the unmistakable feeling he was about to be told something he did not want to hear. The doctor took a deep breath before explaining his situation to him. He told Quinn that they had found traces of Rohypnol in his system and alluded to what this also meant had happened during the night. He informed Quinn that he was currently receiving a dose of painkillers whilst his body worked to heal some of the internal wounds. There was a bandage around his ribs and some stitches on the side of his face which Quinn had failed to notice until that moment. The doctor offered psychologists and other professionals who would be able to help Quinn in his situation, but Quinn just wanted to sleep. There were tears in his eyes as he tried to remember what had gone on, but part of him wondered if it was not better that he could not remember anything.

Just before the doctor left Quinn alone to get some rest, he informed him that a man had been to see him. Quinn was confused, unsure which man he was close enough to that would warrant a hospital visit. The piece of paper on the table next to him was pointed out, which Quinn could see contained a number but no name. It was signed: “Tried to see you soon. Text me.” He immediately knew who the message was from and asked the doctor to pass him his phone before leaving him. 

There would have been a rush of excitement in him when he read the number. He would have immediately typed out a flirtatious message to the mysterious stranger. He would have felt a great deal of confidence in dealing with the older man if he could feel anything at all. Quinn’s whole body had shifted from painful to numb, presumably with the aid of the painkillers being pumped into his bloodstream. There was only a dull ache in his chest left, and he knew that was the psychological damage more than anything physical. Exhaustion consumed his body, and he gave in to it, dropping his phone on the bed next to him.

The next time he woke was when a nurse quietly set some food on the table next to him. This time his body well and truly ached and he wondered if he could have some more painkillers. There was new pain in places he had not previously realised, such as along his thighs and pounding in his head. His phone had been placed on the table, next to where the food was. With a hint of shyness, the nurse apologised for waking him and headed to leave the room. Quinn asked him to stop, needing a moment to sip some water before he felt fit to actually ask for more painkillers.

Once he had been administered enough drugs to feel less of the pain coursing through his body and had eaten a few bites of food to take the edge off of the drowsiness, Quinn’s mind wandered back to the number that had been left for him. He remembered briefly the feeling of safety and comfort that the stranger’s presence gave him, and decided to send the text.

 

> _(13:55) Hi. It’s Quinn from the bar. You left me your number?_

Quinn was not sure his message was sufficient but did not know what else to say. He did not even know the man’s name and had not seen him for over two weeks, but somehow now felt like he was the right person to contact. A reply to his message came very soon after.

 

> **(13:59) Hi, Quinn. I wanted to apologise for what happened.**

This messaged made very little sense from Quinn’s understanding of their situation. They had formed no relationship between them and he could not see any way the man was responsible for it. Very briefly, he wondered if the stranger was responsible, but logic came back to him when he acknowledged that he had left his number. Aside from this, he could not understand any way that the man could know about it.

 

> _(14:01) Why would you need to apologise?_
> 
> **(14:02) It’s difficult to explain.**
> 
> _(14:02) I have nothing to do besides hear you out so go for it._

There was a much longer pause before the stranger replied this time. Quinn initially suspected that the man was taking his time to type out whatever it was that was on his mind, but as more and more time passed it seemed this was unlikely. The exhaustion that had previously consumed him was dulled more now that he had eaten, so he sat with his phone in his hand, waiting for the response that took hours to come.

 

> **(17:40) I will come to see you. We can talk face to face.**

There was no request for an address at which Quinn was staying, so he rolled his eyes and locked his phone. Mentally, he kicked himself for having any hope that this man would be decent. At this point, it seemed that the stranger was simply saying words that made no sense or had no truth behind them. To stop himself dwelling on him too much, Quinn let himself fall back asleep again finally.

He was still asleep four hours later when the stranger walked through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information about Rohypnol and its side effects gathered from https://www.medicinenet.com/date_rape_drugs/article.htm#what_effects_do_these_drugs_have_on_the_body


	3. Can We Be Friends

When Quinn finally woke it was the early hours of the morning. He immediately noticed the presence of another man in the room and almost set off his alarm before recognising him as the stranger he had been texting. The panic that had initially rushed through him subsided, and he lay back comfortably on his bed. Although his phone told him that it was 3:30 am, the man was wide awake and watching Quinn.

“Sorry if I startled you,” he spoke in a voice which soothed Quinn, reminding him of their night together. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure before he responded.

“No, it’s fine. You did tell me you were coming.” Quinn had lots of questions that he did not want to ask just yet. As he looked over at the man, he felt safer than he had truly felt since they were last together. Somehow, he knew that he would be protected if anybody tried to hurt him again.

“How are you feeling?” Quinn had not had time to register any pain in his body yet, overwhelmed by the other man’s presence. The question made him think about It, but his painkillers were still working, and his body had returned to feeling numb.

“Pretty drugged up so there’s not a lot of pain anymore.” It seemed that there was no desire for small talk to be made for either of the men. Quinn had questions that he needed answers to, and the man had a confession he was not sure he should make.

Silence filled the space between them for a few minutes whilst Quinn wondered which question he should ask first. Quickly, he realised there was a very logical answer to that question. “You never told me your name.” It was more a statement than a question, but it was a fact which had been bothering Quinn ever since they parted ways after their first night together. The man did not immediately respond, and Quinn questioned whether the answer he would receive would be the truth at all.

“My name is James.” Quinn nodded. He finally had a name to think about him with, whether he was lying or not. Silence fell between them once more and it was unclear who the next person to ask a question would be.

“This should really only be a quick visit from me. I just needed to drop by and tell you that you will be safe now. It shouldn’t have got as far as it did, but it’s over now. You don’t have to worry anymore.” James did not wait for Quinn’s response before he stood from his chair, putting his jacket on as though he was going to leave. Quinn wanted badly to ask James to stay, suddenly feeling uncertain of what he would do without the other man in the room. He also had more questions that needed answers.

“You can’t just leave, James. What are you talking about? What should never have got as far as it did?” The more he thought about what was going on, the more Quinn began to panic. It seemed that James was suggesting he was involved in something he had never realised, and it had begun to have very real consequences. James sighed, looking over and Quinn and knowing that he should give the boy answers, but he was under strict instructions not to. He felt an enormous amount of responsibility for the situation that Quinn was now in, the least he could do was bend a few rules for him.

“There’s a guy. A pretty bad guy. He thinks you’re involved in something but you’re not. There’s not much more I can tell you than that right now. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants, but I have the resources to stop him before he ever gets that. I need you to trust me and don’t try to look into it any further.” Quinn considered what he was being told for a moment. He thought back to everything he knew about computer systems and wondered if he would be able to hack James and figure out what it was he was talking about. He stopped himself considering it any further, though, when he realised that James was looking out for him. There was little doubt he would be able to do it if he wanted to, but he rather liked the feeling of letting someone else deal with it for him.

“Fine, but I need a favour.” Quinn sat up in his bed, a searing pain briefly shooting through his ribs before he sat back, and the pain subsided again. James was stood perfectly still in the middle of the room, looking at Quinn with questioning eyes. “I need a lift home. The doctors said they can call me a taxi, but I just thought that since you’re here anyway maybe you could help me out?” He grinned a little bit, putting on an innocent expression and looking up at James. “And since you want to take the blame, the least you could do is help me get out of here,” Quinn laughed towards the end of the sentence, causing yet another pain in his ribs. He briefly doubled over, sitting up again within seconds, but it was long enough for James to immediately be at his side.

“I think me taking you home is probably not the best idea, but I can arrange for someone else to take you. I insist.” James rested a hand lightly on Quinn’s shoulder, encouraging him to stay sat back in a position that would not cause him too much pain. He feared he had already drawn too much attention to Quinn again by visiting him and driving him home would only worsen that situation. Before Quinn had any chance to respond, his doctor walked into the room. James quickly moved himself away from the other man, and Quinn turned his full attention to the doctor.

“Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?” The doctor did not enter the room any further, looking backwards and forwards between the two men who were now some distance apart.

“No, not at all. Is everything OK?”

“Just popping in to give you these. You need to take them twice a day. Aside from that, plenty of rest, no going back to work for at least three weeks and no strenuous activities.” With the last comment, the doctor glanced over at James, smiling. James shifted on his feet, clearing his throat awkwardly and Quinn could not help but laugh as James quickly excused himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume-“ the doctor began, but Quinn shut him off.

“It’s fine, honestly. I needed something funny to come out of all of this. Thank you,” he groaned slightly as he turned to stand from the hospital bed, taking the medication being offered to him once he was steady. Once he had gathered his coat, he cautiously left the room and went outside to look for James. The man was nowhere to be seen as the cold air hit his face. He had been inside for so long he had almost forgotten that the weather was getting worse. Looking around, Quinn quickly spotted the car that was parked nearby with blacked out windows and a man stood next to it. Assuming that this was the lift home James had organised for him, Quinn approached.

“Quinn?” The driver spoke uniformly, stood up perfectly straight and barely looking at Quinn, who asked if James had sent him. “Yes, Mr Bond asked me to pick you up.” Grinning, Quinn thanked him when the driver opened the car door for him to get inside. There was a glass screen between the back seats and the driver’s seat, but there was no question about his address before the car was on its way.

His house was a long drive away, so Quinn took the opportunity sat in the back to text James about the encounter with the doctor.

> (15:25) _So, we’ve slept together, you’ve apparently endangered my life but also protected it, and we’ve been mistaken for a couple. Does this make us friends?_
> 
> (15:25) _Oh and I know your full name._
> 
> (15:29) **Trust me, you don’t want to be friends with me.**

Quinn stared at that text message for some time, wondering what James could mean by it. They did not know each other very well, but Quinn had a feeling they were going to keep bumping into each other. He had a feeling that, since they slept together, their lives had become entangled in a way that neither of them could have possibly predicted.

The car pulled up outside his house and the driver opened his door for him again. Before he got out, Quinn asked how he had known where to bring him. The driver smiled. “Mr Bond knows all sorts of things.” Before Quinn could ask anything else, the man was helping him get out of the car and leading him towards his front door.

He barely has time to deliver his thanks before the driver has left him and has driven off. Confused and alone once again, Quinn wandered aimlessly around the building. Repeatedly, he took his phone out of his pocket, looked at his most recent text message, and locked his phone again without replying. He was not sure how friendships were supposed to work in situations like this, but what he felt made him believe that friendship was what was happening between himself and James. Nevertheless, self-doubt was consuming him by the minute. Giving in to his feelings, he sighed and took the phone out of his pocket once more.

> (16:33) _I’m pretty sure you just wouldn’t want to be friends with me._

The phone was abandoned on the side in his kitchen for the rest of the night whilst he treated himself to the bath he had been dreaming of since he was first conscious enough to register his own body. James was put to the back of his mind as he let himself relax into the hot water completely, suddenly realising his entire body had been tense. He struggled to wash properly, but felt better afterwards regardless, refusing to get out of the water until it was beginning to go cold.

Once he was finally comfortable in his living room, he picked his phone up again, noticing a new notification.

> (16:55) **Friendships aren’t as easy as people like to make out.**

Quinn almost did not reply, the message seemingly confirming his thoughts and worsening all of his self-doubts. Regardless, he was not sure he wanted the conversation to end there, so tried to keep something going.

> (19:24) _I don’t know. I think the right people can make great friends._
> 
> (19:27) **I’m not the right people.**
> 
> (20:01) _Right. I’m off to bed._

He took his tablets to ease the pain that was quickly returning to his body and lay down as flat as he could on his sofa. He was not sure he could make his way up the stairs, so opted to grab a nearby blanket and stay where he was for the night. The world outside seemed still and silent from behind the curtains and locked doors, but still Quinn worried something would happen to him. He wondered if he had offended James with his offer of friendship, meaning he would not be willing to save Quinn this time.

Eventually, he drifted off into a restless sleep, waking multiple times throughout the night. Quinn longed for the feeling of security he had next to James.


	4. A Dangerous Love

It took almost three weeks for Quinn to feel closer to normal again. He spent the time that it took him to recover rekindling his love for some of his old hobbies. A chess board, which had been gathering dust for almost two years, came back out for him to perfect some of his techniques, and he sat at a piano for the first time since he was a child. His phone had been going off almost constantly, with concerned friends, family and co-workers trying their hardest to get in contact with him. Even though he had not told most people what had happened, it was difficult for his absence to go unnoticed by most. Selectively, he went through and responded to the messages.

**Jude (September 6, 21:27)**

            Hey buddy. Not seen you around for a few nights and just wanted to check in. All ok?

**Quinn** **(September 21, 14:15)**

            Hey! Sorry about not replying. Not been feeling too good – think I’ve got a bug or something. Not sure when I’ll be back to be honest. Thanks for checking in though.

**Jude** **(14:42)**

            Sorry to hear that. If you need any company, just give me a shout.

 

**Oli (September 3, 06:58)**

            Just checking in. Saw you weren’t feeling too good last night but they wouldn’t let me come in or anything so thought I’d shoot you a text. Did something happen? How are you doing?

**Quinn (September 21, 14:21)**

            All ok. Just need a little bit of recovery time. Thanks for checking in.

 

As he scrolled mindlessly through the unread messages, a new one came through.

 

**Unknown (September 3, 07:07)**

            We know what you have, and we know where to find you. Meet us at the agreed location by 6pm.

 

Quinn was confused, unsure and, mostly, angry. Though he considered texting James and asking what this meant, he decided to make an attempt to help himself out of the situation before turning to anybody else. He needed something to do anyway.

He made his way to the study in his house, where he saw the three large computer screens all next to each other, two separate keyboards on the desk in front of them. With determination, he headed over to the chair and plugged his phone into one of the screens. Hours must have passed whilst he glared intently on the computers, delicately changing settings and typing out code to trace the unknown number, which was protected in ways that Quinn had never seen before. Finally, he got what he wanted.

Outside, rain was pouring heavily, but Quinn did not care. He typed the address that the computer had finally given up to him into his phone and grabbed his car keys. When he got to the location, he decided, he would not approach anybody. He would not even get out of the car. To do so seemed like a stupid move, especially in his still compromised state of health.

As he followed the directions, he noticed that the road in front of him was changing from concrete into dirt tracks. There was no way to see where the tracks were leading him, as trees and bushes were overgrown on either side. He drove down the straight path for almost 5 minutes when he became suspicious that he may have taken a wrong turn, but he had no opportunity to turn around, so kept going anyway. There was no sign of anybody else, until the road finally began to open up again.

The clearing that he came to contained a barn-type building, with four cars surrounding it. Three of the cars had blacked out windows and enough rain on them to suggest that they had been parked up for at least a little while, whilst the other one still had dry areas on the window screen. From outside, he could see nothing. There did not appear to be any sort of activity occurring that would give him an idea of what kind of place he had been led to. Before he was able to make any decisions about his next move, the door to the barn burst open, with a man he could recognise immediately falling through it. James was on the floor, fighting a man twice his size off of him.

Adrenaline was rushing through Quinn’s body, and it caused him to act impulsively. He started the engine of his car again, grabbing the other man’s attention. The other man did not let go of Bond in surprise, but it did give him the opening to finally fight back more successfully. Seemingly out of nowhere, Bond was firing a gun, the bullet connecting with the other man’s shoulder. Two more men appeared from inside the barn and began chasing Bond, who got close enough to Quinn now that he could see Bond had been on the receiving end of at least two gunshots himself. Bond was crouched behind one of the vehicles, rifling through the pockets of his blazer. The item he retrieved was a pen, which Quinn had very little time to question before he seemed to throw it into the barn. Within seconds, the building was in flames, the men rushing back in fear, and Bond was running towards Quinn.

“Just drive.” The order was delivered, and Quinn immediately started reversing back down the dirt track he had driven up. He drove as quickly as he could, turning so that he no longer had to reverse when he got the opportunity. Nobody was following the car, much to Quinn’s relief, meaning that he could return to a sensible speed.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” he spoke, finally breaking the silence. Bond was bleeding onto his passenger seat, cradling his stomach. The man grit his teeth and shook his head, manoeuvring to remove his torn blazer. Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn saw Bond begin to unbutton the shirt he was wearing too. 

“You’re going to need stitches. And you’ll need to get the bullet out.” Bond was not responding any more, he was using his already bloody shirt to apply pressure to the wound with one hand and was sending a text message with the other. Silence continued as Quinn took it upon himself to begin heading to the nearest hospital. As soon as Bond realised this, he spoke up again.

“Pull over.” Bond was adjusting his position in his seat as though preparing to stand up, but Quinn refused to stop driving. Bond repeated his previous request with more aggravation in his tone and a glance to his side told Quinn that he should not argue. The man had just been shot, if he wanted to get out the car the least Quinn could do was let him. When possible, he pulled over and took the key out of the engine. He watched as Bond struggled to get out, but once he had he leant against the car, grimacing slightly as he struggled to stand up straight. 

“James. You need to get someone to look at this.” Quinn tried to support the man, helping him stand up but he was half the size of the man he was trying to lift, and he seemed to be causing more trouble than he was helping. 

“Look, kid-“ He wasn’t sure why, but that word stung. It took him back to being in the bar. Took him back to when all that was between them was pure attraction and one basic human need. They seemed to have established an intense history, despite having known each other for less than one month. Their relationship definitely seemed to have developed beyond Quinn being referred to as “kid”. But he kept his mouth shut. “-I’ve been here before. I’ve got help on its way. You can go if you want to. Go get on with your life. You’ll be able to now.” He was barely even looking at Quinn, watching the empty road in anticipation of the help which was supposedly on its way.

Unsure why he was feeling such anger, Quinn turned his back on James and made his way over to the driver’s side of the car again. Within minutes two identical cars were driving towards them at an incredible speed, stopping abruptly once they were parallel with Quinn’s car. From one car, a woman jumped out of the back and greeted James, ushering him to the car as though he was not still bleeding from being shot. As Quinn was about to drive away, there was a knock on his window from someone he had failed to see approaching.

“Can I help you?” He asked, having put his window down and waited for the noise of the car with James in to diminish as it drove out of sight.

“I’m going to need you to come with me.” The man spoke in RP and was wearing a suit so expensive Quinn could not even attempt to guess what it was worth. Still, that did not mean that he was owed any sort of obedience from Quinn.

“Look, I just want to go home and rest, so if you don’t mind…” he trailed off and started his engine. The man appeared to be backing away from the window before Quinn realised that he was repositioning himself so that Quinn had sight of the gun attached to his belt.

“I really would like it if you came with me by choice.” Quickly, the car engine was shut off again and Quinn was being escorted to the second of the cars. The gun had been hidden away again by the man’s blazer, but Quinn was not left unattended at any moment. He sat in the back of the car, painfully close to the other man, as it sped away from his own vehicle, in the direction of a location he was not privy to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Back again after who knows how long acting like I was never gone at all? More likely than you think. Seriously though, sorry about the wait. I'd promise it won't happen again but I'm a disaster so it probably will.


End file.
